


C'mon, Live a Little

by softjoycebyers



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Recreational Drug Use, Young Jopper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 11:10:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14831168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softjoycebyers/pseuds/softjoycebyers
Summary: Joyce and Hopper have a little fun with some Mary Jane.Mentions of young (and wild) Jopper.Jonathan is not happy.





	C'mon, Live a Little

**Author's Note:**

> I just enjoy putting Jonathan in these type of situations for some reason! 
> 
> Happy reading, beloved.

Joyce was cleaning up Jonathan’s room when she finds it.

She didn’t typically clean the kids’ room, they were all old enough to undertake that task themselves, but she was going a little stir crazy sitting around at home doing nothing on her day off and felt like she needed something to do so she had decided to tidy up around the house.

She was in the middle of dusting Jonathan’s desk when she found the thing that had her currently fuming, and furiously dialing Hopper’s number at the station.

She didn’t even get to ask Flo to be connected with Hopper, as her call had already been transferred.

“You need to get home, right now,” Joyce says hurriedly.

Hopper was instantly alarmed, had Joyce been thinking clearly she might have realized that she was overreacting and how poor those choice of words were.

He doesn’t bother telling Flo why he’s leaving, having already grabbed his hat from the rack, and she didn’t ask. Joyce didn’t call the station as often anymore these days, usually just showing up at lunch time for Hopper, so Flo thought it might actually be something quite serious.

On his drive home, Hopper thinks of every worst case scenario imaginable. Was something wrong with one of the kids? Was Joyce okay? Her words only fueled his desire to get home as quick as possible to find out what was going on.

The car had barely come to a full stop in the driveway before he was out it and bursting through the front the door.

“Joyce, what the hell?” Hopper says by way of greeting.

But Joyce doesn’t hear him. Instead she’s busy running a whole in the carpet on the living room floor with her frantic pacing–on her way back around however she startles upon seeing a very confused Hopper staring back at her.

“Jesus, Hop!” She places a hand to her chest willing her heart rate to calm down. “You scared me.”

“What?” He responds in incredulity, “You scared me. You called me remember. What’s wrong?”

“Right,” She huffs but otherwise says nothing.

“Joyce,” Hopper pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“What’s wrong?” She repeats, face red with anger, “Jonathan is what’s wrong.”

Joyce holds up the small bag in her hand, “Look what I found in his room!” She unfolds it so Hopper could see its contents, the neatly rolled stickers jostling against one another with her movement.

“I’m going to kill him,” she mutters to herself.

She picks up her pacing again, saying something about how she’s the one who brought him into the world and could probably take him out if she wanted to.

Hopper tries hard to refrain from laughing at her. Though he’s glad the situation wasn’t as dire as he initially thought, he was slightly miffed he was called out of work over something he believed was fairly innocuous–not that he was doing much at the station anyway.

“That’s it?” He raises an eyebrow.

“What do you mean ‘that’s it’?” Joyce cuts him a look, rounding on him so fast Hopper actually takes a small step back.

She throws the bag at him and he catches it between nimble fingers, “I found pot in our son’s room Hopper,” Joyce hisses.

At at any other time, she might have realized that this was the first time either of them had referred to Jonathan as such outloud, but Hopper sure noticed and he was filled with a sense of warmth he had only acknowledged to himself before.

He wasn’t going to bring that up right now though, so instead he sticks up for the young man.

“Damn it Joyce, I thought it worse!”

“I don’t see how––”

“You could have found his stash of dirty magazines or something.”

Now was also not the time for jokes, and it took everything in Hopper not to double over at seeing Joyce’s visceral reaction of disgust.

“That’s not funny.” She turns her back on him to go sit on the couch.

“This isn’t like him,” Joyce crosses her arms, denial radiating off her. “Jonathan doesn’t smoke.”

So distracted is she in her justifications of her son’s behavior, that she misses when Hopper opens the baggy, takes one of the joints out, and reaches for the lighter that’s in his breast pocket.

“He’s 17 Joyce,” He says as he lights the tip of the joint already in his mouth. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“What are you doing?” Joyce eyes widen, gapping at him.

Hopper wiggles his eyebrows, “having a little fun.”

“You can’t smoke that in my house.”

“C’mon, live a little.”

It was too late anyway, Hopper had already taken his first hit, resting his head against the back of the couch, and exhaling the smoke up towards the ceiling,

“Are you crazy?”

Hopper rolls his head to look at her, “Do you remember what you were like at 17?”

“Yes!” She huffs, “Which is why we can’t have drugs in this house, Hopper.”

“S’fine,” he responds with a wave of his hand, “I’ll get rid of it when I get back to the station.”

He then pass her the joint, “You look like you need this more than me anyway.”

Joyce looks down at his outstretched hand, and then back at his face, she wonders when exactly everyone in her family had lost it. She only hesitates for a moment more before she’s reaching for it, taking it between her thumb and forefinger, and bringing it to her lips. She inhales deeply, holding it for a second, and then leaning into Hopper to release the smoke into his already open mouth.

“Boy, does that bring back memories.”

Hopper hums in agreement, taking the joint back from Joyce.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” Joyce says despondently, beginning to feel the effects of the marijuana.

“Why not?” Hopper asks rhetorically, “We’re not dead yet. Besides, we’re the parents right, we make the rules.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes just passing the joint between them.

“God, can you imagine the hell we must have put our parents through?” Joyce says to Hopper who was now attempting and failing to blow smoke rings.

“Sure,” he responds with a chuckle, giving up. “But Jonathan is not us. That boy is a saint if the worst thing he’s ever done is smoke a little pot.”

Joyce nods, conceding to his point. She recalls how the pot they’re smoking now is a lot lighter than the laced stuff Hopper liked whenever he could get his hands on it and had her try once.

“That stuff was terrible.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll tell you what though, Lonnie always knew where to get the good stuff,” Hopper grumbles, watching as Joyce blew out a perfect smoke ring, the very thing he’d be trying to do only minutes ago.

Joyce grins at him smuggly, “I can’t believe I can still do that.”

Hopper grins back, “You always were cooler than me,” he praises.

He gets up suddenly then, and disappears into the kitchen only to return a few minutes later with snacks.

Hopper tosses her the chips, “don’t think I don’t know where you hide this stuff,” she tells him. “But I’m glad you have it today.”

“Remember that time we almost got caught smoking by Officer Fleming?” He asks as he plops back down on the couch next to her.

Joyce groans, “How can I forget?”

They had decided to cut their last class of the day for an extended smoke break up at Swayers Mount which, in retrospect, was not the smartest place to go when you’re not actively trying to get caught but they weren’t thinking about that back then.

As soon as they heard the sirens, Hopper had hightailed it out of the parking lot, and a short car chase ensued before they lost Fleming somewhere around Monroe, and to this day that event still ranks high on Joyce’s list of scariest moments in her life.

“God, we were so stupid.”

“See, Jonathan would never do something like that.”

Joyce nods, conceding to Hopper’s point, it brings her great relief that both Jonathan and Will are not like either of them, and Jonathan’s never given her a reason not to trust him until now.

*

They spend the rest of their time of like that–talking and laughing about old memories they don’t really regret but in hindsight realize were foolish, and could have gotten them into more serious trouble if they had all gotten caught. The time they broke into the school gym to go night drinking with Benny and Karen at the pool to have their own version of Senior night, comes to the forefront of Joyce’s mind.

Joyce and Hopper are so caught up in their stories, neither of them hear the car pull up outside, or the key in the front door until it’s too late.

“Shit.” Joyce says at the same time Jonathan calls out, “Mom?”

As soon as the boy steps over the threshold he notices two things at once: 1) a smell that immediately sends his heart into panic, and 2) all the chatter in the living room ceases.

Oh no, he thinks.

“Maybe if we sit really still he won’t see us,” he hears Hopper’s attempt at a whisper followed by his mother’s giggle.

No, no, no.

“Fuck.” He springs into action, running past the adults and into his room. He drops his books on the bed and begins rifling through his things on his desk, he knew he had forgotten the thing at home but he wasn’t sure how visible it was, at least he couldn’t remember–and he’s usually not this careless.

“Shit,” He says louder.

If it were anyone else telling him this story he might have actually found it comical–coming home to find your parents high on the couch, that’s not an everyday occurrence, and in his case it never would have occurred to him that he’d ever see his parents high before. But it wasn’t, and right now he’d much rather the ground swallow him whole than to have to face his mother. He knows by now, they had to have figured out that the weed was his, he just couldn’t place how his mother had found it.

He steels himself to go back into the livingroom, counting slowly to ten on his way there.

It was only upon walking back into the livingroom did he notice the half eaten snacks that surrounded the adults sitting on floor, and his open bag of weed on their coffee table.

“You actually smoked it?” He cries out before he could stop himself.

“Oh no Jonathan, you don’t get to turn this around on me,” Joyce says as she gets up slower than she would have if she were more sober.

Jonathan just stares between her and Hopper, who could quite school his features into a more stern look.

“But mom,” the boy says in exasperation, “you’re high.”

Joyce smacks her lips, “maybe so but–– ”

Hopper cuts her off, laughing, “shit, we sure are.”

“Hopper,” she admonishes. “You’re not helping.”

Turning back to Jonathan she says, “Have you lost your mind? What if the younger kids had found it?”

Jonathan rolls his eyes, “But they didn’t–– ”

“You should know better than this Jonathan.” Joyce shakes her head, “What are you gonna say, you were holding it for a friend?”

“Yeah, like I haven’t heard that one before,” Hopper interjects again.

“Hopper–– ”

“I really can’t believe you guys,” he runs a hand through his hair, “You’re the ones who got high, and you’re trying to lecture me right now?”

“Don’t get smart kid, you’re already in enough trouble as it is.”

“Go to your room Jonathan.” Joyce says, finally having had enough of the back forth, knowing they wouldn’t get anywhere, she points down the hall in the direction of his room. “We’ll talk more about this later.”

As he’s walking off, sulking, she calls to his retreating back, “by the way, you’re grounded.”

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are mine, feed me in reviews (:


End file.
